


El Tango de las Serpientes

by This Girl Is (non_sequential)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, HP: Epilogue Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-17
Updated: 2011-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-20 12:30:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_sequential/pseuds/This%20Girl%20Is
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty years after the events of the Voldemort’s Second Uprising, Draco Malfoy has spent his entire adult life trying to make up for the mistakes of his past and mourning what he lost. He could never have expected what he finds when he is sent to Spain to investigate a wild tale of conspiracy against Wizarding Britain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	El Tango de las Serpientes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Chantefable for Snaco Exchange 2010.
> 
> Betaed by Kittiword, Taldragon, and Lmeden

Córdoba in late July was ghastly. The sun hammered down on the whitewashed buildings, the reflected glare bright even through his charm-enhanced sunglasses. The heat was so intense it felt like an actual physical pressure that no cooling charm could relieve.

The week before, the Department of International Magical Cooperation had received information that a group of Spanish Wizards were plotting a coup of the British Ministry of Magic, with the intention of bringing Britain under Spanish rule. It sounded ridiculous and was probably a complete waste of time, which was most likely the reason the Department Head had sent Draco to investigate.

Six months in Azkaban for being an accessory to murder wasn’t enough for some people, most of whom had spent the war with their thumbs up their backsides waiting for Potter to save them, complaining about how long it was taking him. Not that Draco was bitter. He snorted. No, he couldn’t even _think_ that sentence with a straight face. Of course he was bloody bitter.

Still, reviled or not, he was employed by the Ministry of Magic. He worked too hard for them to withhold promotions and pay rises without risking a run-in with the Minister, who insisted on a zero-tolerance policy towards bullying in the workplace. The effect of the policy had mostly been to make the bullies sneakier, but few people could derail Draco Malfoy from his purpose when he was determined and, by Circe, he was determined. He’d failed his assigned task in his sixth year. He’d failed to protect his parents from the Dark Lord’s wrath. He’d failed to even consider that there might be other options. His goal now was some level of redemption for the Malfoy name, and he would spend his entire life giving everything he had.

He sighed. Even if it meant chasing wild geese in the middle of bloody Spain, in temperatures that had to be near forty degrees.

The information about the alleged coup had come from an Italian shopkeep located on the outskirts of Córdoba’s Wizarding quarter. Septimus Sanevetto ran an Apothecary selling magical potions made from ingredients known to Muggles on one side of his shop, and the usual range of ingredients and pre-made potions for wizards on the other. Draco’s initial investigation of the man revealed that the Ministerio de la Magia had tried to shut the shop down for breaching the International Statute of Secrecy. Sanevetto had successfully argued that there was no breach: the potions sold to Muggles were constituted solely of ingredients already used by Muggles and he did not proclaim his status as a wizard. You had to admire that level of sophistry.

The little information Sanevetto had given them suggested an attack on a significant place in Wizarding Britain. He had speculated on targets like Diagon Alley, The Ministry of Magic, or Hogwarts. What he had been very certain of was that the attack would be potion based and devastating. Sanavetto believed an attempt was being made to create a potion in gas form which would, either after a certain period of time or with some manner of detonation, solidify, trapping everything inside. It wasn’t clear whether anything was intended to survive. The Department Head had decided it was worth sending someone to investigate. Draco still wasn’t sure whether the Head really believed it, or whether he just thought it was amusing to send Draco after a red herring.

He paused a moment, partway across the Puente Romano, ostensibly to admire the view, but in reality to renew his Cooling Charm. Staying in a Muggle hotel within the curve of the river had seemed like an excellent cover in the mild hazy warmth of the English summer. Crossing the old Roman bridge to reach the Wizarding quarter of the Centro Storico in the blazing sun, with sweat already sliding down his back, it seemed like ridiculous paranoia.

The Guadalquivir rolled sluggishly around the islets to the south of the bridge, even the great river rendered listless by the heat. Not even the long shadow cast by the graceful mass of the Mezquita, with its imposing buttresses and delicate Islamic arches stretching the length of the entire block, could offer much relief.

Towards the north-west end, the street opened out into an area packed with restaurants and little shops peddling tat for tourists. Arrays of cheap jewellery and blue glass beads, with eyes painted on childishly, covered stands in the doorways of little shops. Flamenco dresses in garish colours, heavy with lace and frills, hung over the doorways. He shuddered and turned up an alleyway leading north, relieved to be away from the Muggle autos, with their roaring engines and blaring horns.

The alleys were narrow and winding, all blindingly whitewashed. Eventually he had to cast a discreet _Point Me_. Occasionally an open doorway would frame a shady entrance hall picked out in delicate blue, green and yellow tiles, and leading through to a verdant garden courtyard; as though the owners had created a tiny world of cool green, tucked away from the too bright light and too hot sun. He wondered if any of them dreamed of owning England.

After almost being run over three times by ruffians on motor scooters, he came to an archway that led to the left of the little white street he was on. Unlike its surroundings it was unplastered, layers of dusty brown brick alternated with rough mortar. Half arches pushed one wall away from the other keeping the length of it, some 15 feet, open to the sunlight. Some Muggle hooligan had graffitied the first arch.

He felt a wash of magic roll over him as he passed under each of the half-arches. The magic felt older than anything in Diagon Alley and more sophisticated than anything at Hogwarts, with the possible exception of the Room of Requirement. He wondered what happened to anyone who attempted to pass beneath the arches, but failed their arcane tests.

Luckily, he came out the far end none the wiser, having apparently passed. Beyond the arches the pathway turned sharply right, to reveal a long, wide open plaza, with a shallow pool running down the middle of its length. As he watched, water sprayed across the pool from each side. Water lilies flowered serenely beneath arching jets of water. Each side of the plaza was lined with shops, not so different to the Muggle shops around the Mezquita if one didn’t look too closely at the details. Like the group of goblins in tunics, with matching red cloth caps on their heads and wrought silver belts around their waists. Or like the two house elves sitting together at a table outside a café, having what he could only presume was a _date_. He turned back towards the border with the Muggle part of town where the shop sat with a door on either side, a tiny gateway between the worlds.

Sanevetto’s shop front was beautiful. Graceful glass beakers in different sizes and colours, styles ranging from sturdily practical to delicately artistic, glowed like gems in the window. From a purely visual perspective, it was stunning. Reds and pinks for stimulants and aphrodisiacs – rose and ylang ylang and damiana; greens for healing – nettle and knotgrass, milk thistle and vervain. He wondered whether he and his colleagues had done Sanevetto an injustice in writing him off as a crackpot. Although if that were case, he had to wonder where that left the man’s claims of conspiracy.

Of course, there was only one way to find out. He drew a breath and went in.

Inside, the shop was blissfully cool. Muggle air cooling units whirred quietly over the doorways and the lighting was electrical, but he was certain that subtle charms enhanced the visual effects and the glorious freshness of the air.

The counter was two stands away. He could hear two men stood chatting. Presumably one of them was Sanevetto. He could most clearly see the shorter of the two, who was nattering away in Spanish too swift for Draco to keep up with, but it seemed tense. He was gesturing emphatically with the unlit cigarette in his hand. The other man responded more slowly, his deep voice rough in a way that suggested some kind of damage.

Draco moved along the row of shelves, the bottles and a few pillboxes ranging in colour from deep gold to palest primrose, to get a better look. There were shelves on the wall behind the counter displaying silver cauldrons and glass stirring rods, brass scales, mortars and pestles, all used for their magical properties, but not a one of them inherently magical. A magical person with a (mostly) non-magical shop, selling (mostly) non-magical products made by magical means with non-magical tools. It was so beautiful that he thought he might be getting inappropriately turned on. He was beginning to look forward to meeting Signore Sanevetto.

He turned around the edge of the shelf to get a good look at the man, and the breath stopped in his lungs. _Severus_. It was impossible, but there was no denying it. His hair was cropped close to his head and there were patches of grey at the temple. He wore well-cut Muggle clothing, not a piece of which was black, and his voice, Merlin, his _voice_ , was changed out of all recognition from the deep rich tones that had whispered and panted in his ear so long ago. It would fool most people, but not him. He would know Severus Snape anywhere, no matter how bloody dead he was supposed to be.

~O~

A browser was not worth much attention, but a man standing stock still in the middle of a shop was. It was such a basic mistake to make that Draco was embarrassed, but his shock had over-ridden his training long enough to get him noticed. There was some bitter satisfaction in the flicker of widening eyes, and the sallow tinge that came to the tanned face. He wasn’t the only one who hadn’t forgotten.

He’d be damned if he embarrassed himself further, though. He raised an eyebrow and flicked a glance to the man with the cigarette, who was still babbling away nervously, completely oblivious to the furious undercurrents rolling around the room. Severus touched the smaller man’s arm, interrupting him, and nodded toward Draco. Draco smiled and nodded back, doing his best to look like a customer with a question, however tight and out of place the smile felt on his face. The little man turned around and scowled. “Si, si. Adios, Septimus.”

“Adios, Eduardo,” Severus replied as the man made for the door that led to the Wizarding Quarter of Córdoba.

Left alone, they simply stared across the silent shop at each other. What the hell did one say to the lover one thought to have died some twenty years ago, only to discover that he had merely abandoned you? It was hardly the sort of thing Mother’s etiquette books covered. Although come to that, what they did stress was that the best way to overcome awkwardness was to resolutely ignore it.

“Signore Sanevetto, I presume.” It wasn’t a question. Too many puzzle pieces fit too snugly for Septimus Sanevetto to be anything but Severus Snape’s alter ego. Severus drew a breath to say Merlin only knew what. Draco spoke over him. “You contacted my office a few days ago regarding some… security issues.”

“ _Your_ office?” Severus asked. He even raised his eyebrow, the insufferable, smug…

“The office in which I work, yes.” He was forty years old, dammit, not seventeen. He was not going to let Severus sodding Snape take control of this conversation as if he were still Draco’s teacher. “You contacted us. I am here to look into your concerns.”

“I see,” was all Severus said for a moment. Then he gestured to the door behind him which seemed to lead to the back of the shop. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

Draco nodded. All his training told him not to turn his back on an unknown quantity for a moment, and after twenty-three years Severus definitely qualified as an unknown quantity. But they could stand here forever waiting for the other to go first, and the very fact that his inner teenager wanted to dig in his heels and refuse to break first drove him through the door.

The back room was as neat as Draco would have expected from Severus. A place for everything, and everything in its place. Shelves of bottled potions dominated the long side wall opposite the door, and both of the shorter side walls. There was a desk to left of the door through which they entered, with a set of shelves above it. He couldn’t see what was on the shelves, but the desk was clear except for a notepad and pen, both Muggle. To the right of the door was a sink and a table with a kettle and a small hotplate, apparently for brewing coffee on, judging by the small percolator standing neatly next to the sugar bowl and a set of matching mugs.

Severus filled the kettle and set it to boil. Two mugs were turned over and teabags and milk were placed into each. At least he wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t know how Draco took his tea. He wondered what they _would_ end up pretending.

It seemed that ‘death’ had been kind to Severus. His movements, while still precise as ever, were much freer without the tensions and pressure of his Hogwarts years. With his hair so much shorter, the oiliness brought on by too much time in enclosed spaces with volatile potions was much less obvious. At this much closer distance Draco could see that in addition to the greying temples it was threaded through with strands of silver. It should have made him look old, but the bastard just looked distinguished. With Severus’ back to him, an acknowledgement in itself, Draco had a chance to appreciate the effect of the dark blue jeans that hugged Severus’ thighs, and the light khaki linen shirt that accentuated the broad shoulders as heavy robes had never done.

The kettle whistled its completion and Severus poured the water into both mugs. He passed one to Draco, and stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into the other.

Draco leaned back against the desk and took a sip, then took the plunge. “An excellently English cup of tea. Whatever would Mamma Sanevetto say?”

Severus frowned, much the way he used to when Draco’s bravado got away from him and led him to say more than was seemly in school. “You’re not amusing, Mr Malfoy,” he censured, his voice rasping over the vowels.

 _Mr Malfoy._ “Forgive me,” he replied tightly, “Until five minutes ago I was under the impression that you’d been dead for the last twenty years. I find myself rather confounded.”

“I did what was asked of me. I did _everything_ that was asked of me, to great personal detriment, as you well know. Whatever the final outcome of the battle, there was no good end for me if I was known to have survived. It was a close run thing as it was.” He rubbed absently at the scars at his throat, seemingly unaware that he was doing it. “An opportunity to escape presented itself, and I took it. That was all.”

 _But what about me?_ that inner teenager wanted to ask. Ridiculous question, when the answer was right there in the last twenty years. What _about_ you? Draco took another sip of his tea, that most civilised of social props. “And now some half-formed conspiracy theory leads you to risk your perfect escape by drawing the Ministry’s attention to yourself.”

Severus sneered, as only he could. “I must admit, of all the people I thought might appear on my doorstep representing the Department of International Magical Cooperation, you were not on the list. Most anyone else would be fooled, if they even knew who I was after twenty years.”

“Even with the war over, there was still a great deal of work to be done to keep the Wizarding World safe.” And Severus had simply walked away from it all. From him.

“Indeed. And the time has passed for me to be doing the work. It is the turn of your generation, Mr Malfoy.”

It was amazing how sharp the casual cruelties of the universe could be. He had devoted his life to the work of his mentor, his lover, as the only way he could honour his death. Now it turned out that his mentor was alive and had expected nothing less than what Draco had given. He should be used by now, after all these years, to the taste of his pride but it was still a bitter thing to swallow.

A small bell sounded from the main floor of the shop.

Severus stood. “It seems I have a customer. I had best chaperone them. Some of the local brats have been attempting to purloin the Perking Powder.”

“Of course.” The dismissal stung, but it was better that he have a chance to regain his composure. Whatever he said, if Severus had risked bringing the Ministry back into his life, he was convinced that the conspiracy was a real danger, and Draco trusted his judgement. In a tiny gesture of spite, Draco put his teacup down behind him, partly on the notepad, and partly off it. He felt a little of the tea slosh out the cup and over his hand and the desk. He saw Severus wince a little. “I’ll return after you close.”

He turned to precede Severus back into the shop.

“Mr Malfoy.” He stopped although he didn’t, couldn’t, look back however soft Snape’s rough voice may have become. “There are names for teachers who sleep with their students.” He nodded. It was likely the closest he would get to an apology, although he wasn’t entirely sure whether it was an apology for the relationship or the abandonment. Perhaps it didn’t matter. Both were meaningless now.

He turned his head and spoke over his shoulder, “I’ll be back after you close.”

He walked back out into the pounding heat.

~O~

He Apparated back to his hotel room. The temptation to find a bar and get disgracefully drunk was great, but he wasn’t here for personal reasons, no matter how hard his personal life had crashed into this case. And it was a case. The Head had mostly managed to cover his smirk while telling Draco that he was to spend a chunk of the precious Summer holidays, when Scorpius was home from school, in Spain. The assignment had clearly been considered a joke, but there was no way in the nine hells that Severus Snape would risk bringing the Ministry into his new life based on mere speculation.

He poured himself one outrageously overpriced whisky from the minibar and pulled the shrunken file from an inside pocket of his valise, returning it to its normal size. It was ridiculously thin to justify sending an agent overseas, even a junior one. There was the original report, notes the research team had pulled together on possible suspects, and a few notes of his own. He put his reading glasses on and opened the original report out of the file to review, this time knowing that it came from Severus.

Two hours later the glass was empty, Draco’s hair was a mess from him running his hands through it, and the paper in front of him was covered in scribbled notes, most of them crossed out. It was ridiculous. Who, in this day and age, staged a political coup to take over a country? Well, other than third world countries and Pacific islands. But this was _England_. And, all right, it had worked for Voldemort. He sighed and reached for his glass, putting it to his lips before remembering that he’d finished it ages ago. He really wanted another, but he’d need all of his wits about him if he was going to have another encounter with his less-dead-than-previously-supposed former lover. Dutch courage was for Gryffindors.

The analysts had joked about Al Qaeda, but Severus had been clear that the threat was magical, potions-based, and so far Al Qaeda had remained firmly Muggle. So all the usual Muggle suspects were out, and common sense suggested that the Nubian Liberation Movement were unlikely to be operating out of Spain. Although, who _would_ be operating out of Spain was unclear. It had been a quiet area, in terms of Wizarding Politics.

The key was the potion. Severus’ information had mostly been about the potion. Discussions with an unspecified person, which was interesting because it could mean Severus was protecting someone. Possibly someone who could be making the potion. He thought about such a thing being let off in the Ministry building or, God forbid, Hogwarts. That thought was enough to give any parent nightmares. Ultimately it didn’t matter who was creating this potion or why, what mattered was that it be stopped.

Which brought him back to Severus. Who, his mind just kept circling back to this one enormous, incomprehensible fact, was _alive_.

“The hell with this,” he announced to the room in general. He had quit smoking several years ago, but there was no way the wagon was going to survive this case, and there was no point drawing it out. He was certain he had seen a tabac somewhere on the next block from the hotel, and he could do with a walk, even in the heat.

Cigarettes acquired - some Spanish brand he’d never heard of, but at this point nicotine was nicotine and who cared - Draco found his way back to the river. A discreet spell encouraged a hormonal teenage couple to abandon the bench in the shade of a tree, overlooking the river and the old city beyond it. The first drag of the cigarette when he lit it burned in the back of his throat and down into his lungs and made him cough. God, he’d missed fags.

A flock of white birds briefly burst into flight from a stand of dusty green trees on one of the islets in the river. He took a second, then a third pull of the fag, savouring the burn in his lungs and the slightly lightheaded feeling that came from not having had one in too long.

Right. So. Severus hadn’t died, Severus had left. And now Severus was _here_ , and seriously worried about someone trying to do awful things in England. He pulled a face as the smoke he was inhaling turned bitter. He’d smoked it down to the filter without realising. He quietly Banished the butt and lit a fresh cigarette.

Merlin. _Severus_. He’d been the one bright spot in the endless horror of Draco’s seventh year at Hogwarts. After Severus had intervened in Draco’s impossible task, he had then made sure Voldemort had seen it in the brightest possible light and averted the worst of Draco’s fears for his family. He’d been determined to repay Severus by supporting him through the school year. What had surprised him was how much that had involved subverting and deflecting the Carrows. It was then that he had actually begun to understand the man. It was also when he had really begun to understand the implications of following his father’s path. He hadn’t expected to find himself supporting the ‘Side of Light’, but the previous year had left him doubting himself so badly that he just put his faith in Severus to guide him. It had been surprisingly freeing.

Everything between them had changed the day he had let Longbottom and the She-Weasel get away with one of their acts of defiance. The Carrows had decided they’d had enough of his putative incompetence. To this day he couldn’t actually remember getting from the Dark Arts office, where he’d been punished, to Severus’ chambers but he vividly remembered the look on his face and the careful way he’d carried Draco to the sofa and tended his injuries. Nothing had happened that night of course - Crucio was not known for its aphrodisiac qualities, Aunt Bella aside - but from then it had been the two of them against the world: protecting the students of Hogwarts from the predations of the Death Eaters in their midst; alleviating the suffering of those they couldn’t protect; and above all, trying not to get caught.

Severus’ chambers had become a sanctuary for them both. With the Carrows stalking Hogwarts and the Dark Lord residing in Draco’s own home, it was the only place either of them could truly relax. The warmth and privacy of the heavily warded set of rooms had been intoxicating. Draco could still remember their first kiss. He had started it, of course. Severus would never have touched him without serious encouragement. Draco had given it. The first kiss had been almost chaste. Draco had kissed Pansy a few times before, but that was nothing like kissing his stern teacher. Severus had frozen at the touch of Draco’s lips on his. “Draco-“ he had said. Draco had replied, “I know.” And that was all. But when Draco had leaned in to kiss him again, Severus’ mouth had moved against his, warm and dry and tasting slightly of Pepper-up. Just thinking about it still struck Draco with a pang of loss.

He didn’t know quite what to do with that grief now that he knew that it had been Severus’ choice to leave him. He had thought only death could separate them. He had built his entire adult life on the foundation of that year, and the certainty that he had loved and been loved deeply. It had given him the strength to face years of being despised and vilified; the strength to do what he had must to ensure the Malfoy line. It was a lie.

And now he had a case in which his former lover was his only source of information. He had no idea who the perpetrators were, and Severus hadn’t said. Which was not to say that he didn’t _know_ , or at least have some idea, just that he was keeping his thoughts to himself, Severus being Severus. Damn the man. Draco would just have to try and get more information out of him after the shop closed, and hope that he was prepared to give it. Not even Voldemort could get information out of Severus, if Severus didn’t want him to have it. All Draco had to do was act as if Severus was just another informant.

This was going to be a disaster.

~O~

 

Draco was relieved when Severus led him to a quiet bar in the Wizarding quarter. He was already on the back foot - at least this would be relatively neutral territory.

It was still a shock to see Severus in Muggle clothes. The light, long-sleeved shirt in pink was almost as much disguise as he could ever need. Who but Draco would look at a man in a pink shirt and think, ‘That’s Severus Snape’?

They both ordered small glasses of red wine, which they took to a small table outside. Severus cast a _Muffliato_ around them. Silence stretched out awkwardly. _’Pretend it’s not awkward until it isn’t anymore’_ , he reminded himself, and pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one. Severus didn’t say anything, but his eyebrow rose disapprovingly. Draco smiled back and offered him one, causing Severus’ deceptively ascetic lips to thin.

“So,” Draco said, breaking the silence, “Are you going to tell me what you didn’t include in the report, or are you going to make me work for it?”

Severus looked at him for a moment over the rim of his wineglass. Draco should have been watching his face for clues, but his eyes were drawn to the long, strong fingers cradling the wineglass. “Tempting as it is to test you, time is rather of the essence, and I believe you would be sufficiently competent.”

Draco raised his glass in a toast and took a tiny sip to hide the flush of embarrassment at his distraction. “High praise, indeed.”

Severus smiled slightly. “Indeed.”

The silence that followed was charged, not so much with awkwardness, as with the kind of tension that would have seen them falling into bed together twenty years ago. The very fact that it was so easy to fall back into those old feelings made him a little angry. He took a deep drag of the cigarette, and noticed Severus’ eyes focus on his mouth as he exhaled the smoke. At least it wasn’t just him.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning? You’re trying to protect someone. My guess is that it’s whoever is brewing this potion. And from the fact that you’re protecting them, I would guess that you believe they’re being pressured into it.” Draco sipped his wine and gestured towards Severus with his cigarette.

Severus nodded. “Eduardo, whom you saw earlier at the shop, is an excellent Potioneer and generally the most jolly of men. Some months ago, his behaviour changed. He became nervous and ceased most of his usual social activities. The behaviour you might expect of a man who is in more trouble than he wishes to admit.” Thankfully Severus refrained from looking at Draco meaningfully. “He also began discussing how to achieve effects with potions which alarmed me. I hope I don’t need to explain to you why the idea of combining sliced basilisk retina with small-leafed knotgrass and crushed amber in a lavender base is cause for alarm?”

Draco reached again for his glass. He couldn’t work all of it through off the top of his head, but he could see how it might work to achieve the gas Severus’ initial report had mentioned. The inclusion of amber gave him hideous visions of the Great Hall at Hogwarts filled with amber, all the children trapped like flies, frozen forever. He shivered. “Why would he want to do that? Or perhaps more to the point, who would make him?” He narrowed his eyes. “And I know the temptation is great, but please don’t pretend you don’t at least have some educated guesses.”

He hadn’t seen Severus smile since those desperate days in his chambers, and it had been rare then. Twenty three years later it still made his stomach and lungs tighten.

“I cannot begin to identify the group or ideology behind the plot, but,” Severus raised his hand to forestall Draco’s objection at the apparent prevarication, “I have noticed one or two… shall we say _suspicious_ individuals about town. I have so far been reluctant to press Eduardo too closely about this, but I think the time has come.”

“Am I to play Bad Auror?” Draco asked. It was difficult to tell in the low light, but he thought that the tips of Severus’ ears flushed a little. He had pushed his half-finished glass of wine to the centre of the table and stood up before Draco could be certain.

“If you wish,” he said curtly, and turned to the door, leaving Draco to trail along behind, bemused.

~O~

Eduardo’s lab was locked and heavily warded. Severus lifted several spells and turned the door handle, only to have his hand stung. He jerked his hand back and scowled at it as though it were Longbottom in Potions class.

Draco cleared his throat lightly. “Problem?”

Severus cast a detection spell on the wall in front of them. “There shouldn’t be any further wards. I am supposed to have full access, in case there is an emergency and I need to get in.” He lifted two more spells then paused, looking alarmed.

“What it is?” Draco asked.

Severus cast another detection spell and stared at the results. “Eduardo didn’t cast these.”

They exchanged a long look. Eduardo was their only lead in finding the perpetrators. They had to find him. Draco looked more closely at Severus’ detection spell.

Working together, it took them half an hour to be certain they had disabled all of the new wards on the door, some of which were vicious. They opened the door and pushed it open, waiting to see if anything happened. When nothing did, Severus took a small piece of paper from his pocket. He crushed it into a small ball and threw it through the doorway. It was struck by a bolt of magic before it could hit the floor. A few pieces of ash drifted slowly down. Inside they could see a large lab bench. On it, a flask of liquid had been knocked over. The contents had spilled over the bench and onto the floor. As they watched, a drop fell from the workbench and splashed into a puddle on the floor next to a man’s shoe. The air smelled pervasively of lavender.

“Eduardo!” Severus called, as Draco worked to remove the final deadly barrier. There was no response from within.

At last they were able to enter the lab. The workbench was strewn with spilt ingredients, a stool had been knocked over, and a man lay on the floor, his head and shoulders encased in amber.

Severus hurried forward and knelt to look at the man. “It’s not Eduardo.” He reached for the man’s wrist to check for a pulse but let go as soon as he touched the man’s skin. All expression left his face as he stood back. “I recognise him, though. He’s one of the people I thought might be involved. It’s good to know that my instincts are still reliable.”

The man’s face was panic stricken, eyes wide, mouth grimacing. His head was thrown slightly back, as though he had tried, too late, to pull away. His fingernails were torn bloody, brown streaks down the front of the amber casing a silent testament to his desperate attempts to free himself.

“Eduardo seems to have solved his problems with the amber potion.” Draco observed lightly as he looked around. There was no obvious physical evidence beyond the littered workbench and the dead man, whom he nudged with his shoe. “I think it’s safe to say that this one didn’t cast those wards, though.” Severus gave him a sour look.

“You don’t say.” He raised an eyebrow as Draco cast one the Unspeakables’ latest and most complicated spells. A moment later the room lit with splashes of vivid colours marked with symbols, some splashes repeating in gradually lightening shades. It looked a little like Severus’ shop.

“What is that?” Severus asked.

“Spells.” Draco identified the symbols that represented _Lumos_ and _Nox_ and dispelled them, along with a couple of cleaning charms he recognised. “One of Hermione’s efforts I believe. You remember her, Hermione Granger, well, Weasley now.” Severus snorted. “Yes, I know, but it turns out she’s bloody good. This is an environmental variant on _Priori Incantatum_. These are all the spells that have been cast in this room in the last couple of weeks. The lighter the shade, the longer ago they were cast.”

“Which might be useful, if there weren’t quite so very many of them,” Severus remarked snidely.

Draco dispelled a couple more domestic spells, and the room started to look clearer. “Hence the symbols. She hasn’t yet worked out a reliable way to set a specific timeframe, but you can get rid of spells you know you don’t need to see. So,” he turned around to look at the front door and pointed at the bright orange light around it, “We have a forced entry. And an _Incarcerous_ here.” He pointed to the toppled stool, which now glowed bright yellow. “ _Silencio_ too.”

A bright rainbow of colours surrounded the dead man - there were cutting charms, blasting curses, and a plethora of healing spells. The amber looked undisturbed by any of them.

Severus sighed. “Well, there’s nothing more to be done here. I suggest we try his flat.”

They locked and warded the lab again, albeit non-lethally this time. Severus turned to him. “It would be easiest if I were to take you there by Side-along Apparation, if you would permit,” he said stiffly, holding out his arm. Because what could be less awkward than enforced proximity? He stepped close and took Severus’ arm, vividly conscious of the warmth from his body as he Apparated them to their next destination.

The front door of the flat was closed but unlocked. The coffee table in the living room had been overturned and a thick crack ran along its glass top, the cushions were half dragged off the sofa, slumping toward the floor. A quick check of the bedroom showed clothes half pulled out of drawers, and the wardrobe door swung open.

The Spell Identification Charm showed that the door had been forced open, unsurprisingly. There was a cluster of _Finites_ and _Silencios_ on the sofa, the anti-Apparation wards had been stripped and three people had Apparated away.

He went into the bedroom and repeated the process. “Packing spell in here. They weren’t looking for anything, they were just removing him. On the plus side, they probably wouldn’t pack clean pants for him if they were planning to kill him and hide the body.”

Severus was inspecting the colour splashes around the sofa. “The question now is, is there any way to track where he was taken?”

“Not unless-“ Draco stopped, his attention caught by a purple glow on the bookcase. He crossed the room, and picked up the small object that was causing the glow - a dragon figurine, apparently a souvenir from a reserve in Romania. The symbol it was displaying didn’t look familiar, but purple usually indicated some kind of tracking… He laughed. “Unless he’s left some way to trace his whereabouts.” He held it up and grinned.

Severus reached for it, pulling his wand from a pocket. “Would you be so kind as remove your spell?”

Draco dispelled the glow, and watched as Severus cast analytical spells on the object. His movements were economical and restrained, as disciplined as Draco remembered.

Suddenly the little dragon began to hum quietly, and appeared to be jerking in Severus’ hand. “He appears to be to the East of here.”

“Right, let’s go.”

“You don’t think we should, perhaps, have a plan before we chase after him, Gryffindor-fashion?” Severus’ arms were folded and his eyebrow raised, the way he used to stand over semi-competent students in Potions classes.

Draco raised his eyebrow right back at him. “I have a plan. We’ll establish whereabouts he is, as closely as we safely can, and try to find out what manner of security measures are in place. Hopefully they’ll have taken him to the lab where they’re working on the potion. Then we’ll retreat and work out the best way to get in. Does that meet with your approval?”

“Very well. East we go.”

~O~

An evening breeze had sprung up, bringing with it cool relief from the blistering heat. The sun had gone down, and the street lights cast a soft glow. They quickly left the Wizarding Quarter following the insistent tug of the dragon eastwards and a little to the north, past Muggle shops, restaurants and bars. More and more people, all dressed up for a night out, filled the streets.

“What on earth are all these people doing here?” Draco asked, exasperated, as a group of teenage boys jostled him. “Do they not have homes to go to?”

Severus dodged deftly around a large group of people outside what appeared to be a bar. “El Paseo. It’s a Spanish tradition, to promenade in the evenings before dinner.”

“I just wish they wouldn’t insist on promenading in my bloody _way_ ,” Draco grumbled.

Severus snorted. “The more things change…”

“Yes, thank you, Se- eptimus,” Draco stumbled a little over the name. Severus wouldn’t thank him if he were overheard using the wrong name.

Severus suddenly stopped, then apologised to the matronly lady who had been walking behind him. Then he turned towards a side street leading more directly north. “This way.”

Faint strains of arrhythmic guitars and clapping floated out from behind white walls as they passed, punctuated by mournful cries and shouts. On the other side of the narrow road powerful wards hummed, making the hair on Draco’s arms stand on end. He glanced at Severus, who appeared to be listening to the discordant music, but was looking at the warded wooden door across the road from the corner of his eye. “Flamenco,” he said. “I should take you to a show while you’re here. It’s fascinating to see performed properly.”

Draco waved his wand discreetly at the building opposite, replying, “If you insist. It all sounds very strange to me.”

A face darkened the window of an upper floor. Severus’ eyes flicked towards it, then back to Draco. “I’m sure you’ll change your mind when you see it. Shall we continue?”

Draco’s seeking spell came back to him. He nodded. “By all means.”

They continued walking along the street then turned left to walk around the block that the house was in, but stopped before they were in view of the window. The house itself had only one external wall, which was heavily warded and watched over. “If we’re going in, it will have to be through the back, somehow.”

“And do you have any idea how we might do that?” Severus asked silkily. Ages old instinct wanted to snap back, but he knew, he _knew_ , that Severus was trying to wind him up for some obscure reason of his own.

“I have some thoughts,” he replied calmly after a moment. “But I would like to analyse the results of my scans before we decide exactly how to approach this, for which I will require some privacy.” He knew Severus would insist on being part of the planning, which meant, Merlin help him, either Severus’ home or both of them in his own small hotel room. He was damned if he’d be the one to suggest it though. He was long done with his eager schoolboy days. “I’ll return to my hotel and review our information and contact you-“

Severus raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement of the move. “My apartment affords better facilities and, indubitably, better coffee. I suggest we decamp there to work out our strategy.”

“If you would prefer. Certainly the hotel coffee is nothing to speak of.” Draco held out his arm for Severus to Apparate them.

“I should be delighted,” Severus replied drily, taking Draco’s arm.

The press of Apparation surrounded them as Severus took them to his apartment. Two former lovers with unfinished business, working together under close quarters. What could possibly go wrong?

~O~

Severus’ flat was spacious and airy. The windows in the outside wall of the building were small, but on the other side large windows opened out over one of the courtyard oases Draco had glimpsed earlier in the day. The ceilings were high, and the walls were painted in pale shades of blue and green. Large white sofas dominated the living area, with silk cushions in rich peacock shades. Two walls were lined with floor to ceiling bookcases. It was hard to imagine anything further removed from Severus’ low, dark chambers in the dungeons of Hogwarts. To Draco those rooms had felt safe, tucked far away from the rest of the school, the low light soothing. He had never thought to wonder how they felt to Severus.

The rich aroma of fresh ground coffee beans began to carry out from the kitchen where Severus was preparing the coffee.

By the door to the kitchen stood a large wooden dining table surrounded by white leather dining chairs. Draco emptied the contents of his pockets onto the table top. The cigarettes and his wallet he pushed to one side, and returned the rest to their normal size. He reached for the smooth silver bowl of the iScry and decanted the results of his seeking spell into it, then cast the Charm to project. A shimmery, three-dimensional image of a building appeared above it, about a foot cubed. A flick of his wand sent the image rotating slightly.

“What in the world is that?” Severus asked, emerging from the kitchen.

“The iScry,” Draco replied. “A ridiculous name, inspired by some Muggle brand, I believe. It’s based partly on scrying, obviously, but it can also be used sort of like a penseive.” Draco murmured the incantation to show the interior. “This,” he announced, gesturing broadly, “Is the building we will be breaking into tonight.”

Severus leaned against the doorway, frowning. “You think we should go in tonight?”

“If we leave it any longer, we risk them disappearing in possession of a fully functional lethal potion and someone who can make as much of it as they want. We need to move immediately.”

He received a nod in response and turned back to the floating image, adding the representation of the magical defences that had been detected by the spell. The outside wall of the house blazed brightly, the door and windows even more so. The entire building was surrounded by the sphere of anti-Apparation wards cast without consideration for neighbours. Because it extended beyond the bounds of the actual protected property, it could result in accidents in the neighbouring properties. He wasn’t terribly surprised that these people didn’t care. Fortunately it was a Muggle neighbourhood, and they would probably never notice.

The two of them spent some time proposing and discarding plans of attack over Severus’ coffee which was, as promised, infinitely superior to that provided in Draco’s hotel room. Severus pointed out the coruscating colour of the anti-Apparation wards which, on closer inspection, proved to be combined with wards that would prevent them flying in on brooms.

“The weakest point,” Draco said, pointing, “Is the roof. It’s going to be the easiest and least conspicuous way in.”

Severus sneered. “Primarily because we can’t _get_ to the roof. We cannot Apparate, we cannot fly. I certainly have no intention of attempting to leap from a neighbouring building.”

“Which is why I’m not proposing we attempt any of those methods.” Draco sighed. He’d actually forgotten how bloody _difficult_ Severus could be sometimes. “WWW developed devices for climbing walls. They effectively stick your hands and feet to a surface until you tell each one to let go. Apparently they were inspired by some Muggle comic book. So we climb up the outer wall of the block and simply cross the roof till we get to the house in which they’re holding Eduardo.”

“And from there? There’s no access into the house from the roof. How do you intend to gain entry?”

Draco smirked. “Are you becoming pedestrian in your old age, Severus? We’ll simply cut our way through the roof.”

Severus’ lips flattened out in that way that meant he didn’t really approve, but had no better ideas himself. “Hmmmm. Well, I suggest we undertake this endeavour at about 4am. They’ll have someone on watch-“

“But the odds are better of at least some of them being asleep. I know, Severus. This _is_ my job, and I’m actually quite good at it.”

“It is merely that you are quite young yet-“

“I’m forty, Severus. I’m older now than you were then.”

“Draco, I don’t think-“

“What? You’d prefer to keep ignoring the erumpent in the room?”

The image of the building wavered as Severus slapped his hands down on the table hard enough to shake the iScry. “I would _prefer_ not to dwell on a terrible mistake I made in the past.”

Draco felt the breath rush out of his lungs. He felt cold. He’d known, obviously, that if Severus had walked away without a backward glance twenty three years ago, then what they’d had together had not been for him what it was for Draco. He hadn’t expected to be called a terrible mistake.

“Draco,” Severus said softly, “You were a child.”

The icy feeling in his veins melted in a hot surge of anger. “I was seventeen. I was an adult, legally able to give my consent-“

“You were a _student in my care_. I had a responsibility to you to not take advantage of you at a time when you were emotionally and sexually vulnerable.”

He leapt to his feet. “I loved you.”

Severus stood to face him. “You needed someone to support you, to be there for you. And instead I coerced you into a deeply inappropriate relationship. We couldn’t have kept it up, Draco. It would have been _wrong_ of me to attempt tie you into a relationship you should never have been in, with a man old enough to be your father.” He actually looked like he believed it, the bastard. “You were so young, Draco. You had your entire life ahead of you.”

“I mourned for you. I _grieved_.” He’d long ago learnt to control his temper, but he could feel his hands begin to shake with fury. “I spent six months in Azkaban. Did you know that? And when I got out, I took the only option that’d been left open to me. I went ahead and did my duty as a good son. I begged and grovelled my way into any half-decent job I could find. I found a nice girl to be the mother to my children – and I can tell you I wasn’t looking for a partner for me, because I wouldn’t have been looking for someone who was _nice_ ,” he shoved Severus, making his head snap back and his eyes widen in surprise, “or a _girl_.”

He shoved Severus again, although he was ready for it this time, and simply swayed with it. “But if I had to go that route, I needed someone who knew how to be a decent parent, because Merlin knows my own father was nothing I’d want to emulate. And I suppose I’ve been content enough,” he stepped forward into Severus’ space, forcing him to take a step back. And another. And again, until his back hit the wall. “But in all my life I have not been truly happy since we were together, hiding away in your rooms and blocking out the world for just a little while.” His hands clenched in Severus’ shirt, twisting and crushing the fabric beneath his fingers. He wanted to shake Severus until his ears rang. “So don’t you _fucking dare_ tell me it was nothing but a pathetic schoolboy crush.”

For a moment silence reigned. Draco held Severus against the wall, both of them breathing hard, twenty three years of grief and regret thrumming in the small space between them.

Then Severus leaned forward, pressing his mouth to Draco’s. One hand came up to clutch in Draco’s hair, holding him in place as Severus’ tongue thrust into his mouth, the heat and wet and sheer bloody _passion_ of it so much after so long without it.

Not breaking the kiss or his hold on Severus’ shirt, Draco stepped back, pulling him along. Severus moved with him like they were dancers treading familiar steps. As they got to the sofa, Draco turned and slipped a foot behind Severus’ ankle, sending him falling onto the cushions. The brief startled look on his face was priceless. Draco had no intention of giving him time to recover. He swung one leg over both of Severus’ and knelt, straddling his lap.

Severus’ hands settled on his hips, pulling them forward until their groins were pressed together, cocks growing harder and harder against each other. Draco wrapped his hand around Severus’ throat and pushed his head back against the back of the sofa, leaning in to kiss him again, licking into his mouth, tasting his tongue.

Draco rolled his hips, making Severus groan into the tiny space between their mouths. Severus released his hips and instead pulled his shirt from the waistband of his trousers, running his hands up and down his back, hot and firm. He’d missed those hands. Then one spread across the small of his back, holding him in place. The other moved around to stroke his chest. Severus pinched his nipple and Draco bit Severus’ lip.

That familiar hand, with its long, sure fingers, slipped between them where their groins strained together, undoing his flies. Severus wrapped his strong fingers around Draco’s cock and squeezed, and for a second Draco thought he would come right then, just from having Severus touch him after so very long.

Shuddering, he broke their kiss and took some deep gasping breaths. It was possible this would be the last time he ever got to have this, and he couldn’t let it be over so quickly.

He leaned down to press his mouth against Severus’ ear, the short hair prickly and unfamiliar against his cheek. He licked the outer rim of his ear then stroked his tongue deep into the shell of it before whispering over Severus’ moan, “Please tell me you have lube here. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me so hard I can barely breathe. I want you.”

The hand on his chest slid around his ribs, stroking the skin, thumb running over the delicate arches of his ribs, then eased down into the back of his trousers, now gapping at the back. Fingers slid down, teasing the top of his arse, dipping into his crack before retreating coyly. The hand on his cock kept tugging gently while Severus _Accio_ ’d lube. Draco thrust his hips into the motion, at the same time reaching around Severus’ hand to get his flies open. A moment later Severus groaned, the sound strangled by his own vocal cords as Draco pulled their cocks together and wrapped his hand around both.

Their mouths pressed together, nipping, sucking, licking. Draco rose slightly to wriggle out of his trousers and pants. There was no way to do it elegantly while straddling someone’s lap, so he settled for quick. He resettled on Severus’ lap, and took their cocks back in hand while Severus unbuttoned Draco’s shirt.

Severus leaned forward to lick the faint silvery scars on Draco’s chest, his tongue and breath soft and wet against him, as a lubed finger stroked gently back and forth over the puckered skin around his arsehole. Draco fumbled with the buttons on Severus’ shirt, his own breath coming in pants as his arse flexed and fluttered against the tantalising finger. He leaned forward as the last of Severus’ buttons gave way beneath his fingers, pressing their chests together and trying to push his arse closer to the teasing finger.

“Touch me,” he moaned against Severus’ neck, shuddering with the unsatisfied arousal building in his body.

“I am,” Severus replied, tightening his grip on their cocks and doing something with his wrist at the heads that mad Draco see stars.

Draco bit shoulder hard. “Do not mess with me right now, Severus, or I will make you sorry.” He felt a warm huff of laughter go past his ear, the second before one finger breached him. He reached for Severus’ hair to pull his head back for a kiss but his fingers slid across the short hairs. He growled and grabbed an ear instead, thrusting his tongue into Severus’ mouth as Severus thrust another finger into his arse. The fingers inside him twisted and scissored, that slight burn of stretching transmuting into heat running up his spine and down his thighs. He groaned as Severus sucked his tongue. Draco pulled back slightly from the kiss and whispered, “Now,” into the hot space between their mouths.

“Are you su- ah!” Severus’ entire body jerked as Draco viciously pinched his nipple.

“I said, _now_.”

Severus pulled his fingers from Draco and a moment later the thick head of his cock pushed against his hole. Severus’ hand still held Draco’s cock, but loosely, as though he had forgotten it was there. His eyes met Draco’s – the pupils were blown wide with lust, engulfing all but a tiny hazel rim of iris as Severus penetrated him, his body sinking slowly, so slowly, around the invading heat.

Draco began to raise himself to find the rhythm they had known so well, when Severus clutched his hips, fingers digging into the flesh of his arse. “Wait,” he gasped.

Draco froze, thighs tensed, not sure what he would do if Severus suddenly decided this was a mistake. It probably was, of course, two middle aged men trying desperately to reclaim an old passion, but nothing had ever felt quite so good, so right, as Severus Snape buried balls deep inside him.

Severus’ hand stroked gently up his back, and he leaned his face into Draco’s shoulder, breathing heavily against his collarbone. “Just… give me a moment,” he croaked in his broken voice. Draco slipped both of his arms around Severus’ shoulders and held him as he gathered his breath.

The moment fell away when Severus curled his palms around Draco’s hips and thrust. Draco cried out as the sudden movement sent that lovely rush of heat through him. He moved to meet Severus as they fell into the thrust and roll of their old rhythm, the years between them falling away.

Time ceased to exist in the sheer glory of movement, the meter of their thrusts, the counterpoint of sharp bites and gentle hands.

Beneath him, Severus’ hips began to stutter, thrusting in syncopation, the rhythm of desperation.

Draco bore down against him, clenched, and heard his name called brokenly as Severus came, hot and wet and frantic deep inside him.

“Draco, god,” Severus murmured against his chest.

He circled his hips, savouring the wet fullness, and groaned. He was desperately hard, his entire body quivered with arousal, and he needed to come more than he needed to breathe. “Please, I’m so close. Please.”

Severus licked his nipple and he whined. It was too much, but still not _quite_ enough to take him over the brink. Then Severus’ hand wrapped firmly around his cock and stroked him hard. That was it. Oh, that was it, and his spine arched back, his balls drew up, and his hands clenched on Severus’ shoulders, clinging as what felt like his entire life spurted over Severus’ hand and chest.

He fell forward, resting his head against Severus’ shoulder. In the quiet that followed Severus whispered into his hair, “You were the only thing I ever regretted leaving behind.”

~O~

The peaceful silence eventually turned awkward. Draco gradually became very conscious of his position, straddled across Severus’ lap with come leaking from his arse. He put his hands to the back of the sofa and levered himself up.

“Draco?”

He needed his wand. Careful to hold himself tall, he walked to the table and cast a cleaning spell on himself. “I have to go back to my hotel room and get the Spider Gloves.” He gathered his clothes and began to dress, not meeting Severus’ eyes.

“I-“ Severus began. Draco shook his head slightly and he fell silent.

Shrinking the items from the table, he put them back in his pockets. He left the iScry, with its gently spinning image of their target, as a reminder of what they were _supposed_ to be doing. He wasn’t entirely sure which of them it was a reminder _for_.

“I’ll be back shortly,” he said and Apparated away to his hotel room.

The room was dark and quiet, and for a moment he just stood there, breathing deeply. “Fuck,” he whispered to the dark.

A quick _Tempus_ revealed it was nearly quarter past three. At least there was time for a quick shower. Cleaning Charms were all right to get rid of the worst of the mess, but it was hard to feel like a professional when he could still feel Severus’ sweat on his own chest and the slight stickiness of leftover come in his arse.

After his shower he pulled loose grey trousers, a light but long sleeved navy-blue shirt, and some clean socks and underwear from his bag and dressed quickly.

He reached for the trousers he’d been wearing earlier and emptied the pockets. He was definitely having at least one more fag before going back to Severus’, hotel policy be damned. A quick air freshening charm and they’d never know. He lit a cigarette, then went through the shrunken items from his pockets to check what else he would need, careful not drop ash on his possessions. He laughed when he realised that the Spider Gloves had been in his pocket the whole time. Never mind. He’d needed the break, and Severus didn’t have to know.

He checked to make sure he had his Acromantula silk cap to cover his hair. He normally rather liked his distinctive blond hair, but it was a disadvantage when one was trying for stealth.

When he returned, Severus had likewise taken the time to clean up. He was sitting at the table staring at the iScry image. The smell of sex still hung thickly in the air.

Severus stood. “Obviously we cannot Apparate directly to the building. I know of a suitable spot nearby, if you will.” He offered his arm, and Draco took it. Severus held himself stiffly, clearly tense. Draco could hardly blame him. He was too aware of the rigidity in his own shoulders.

~O~

They walked quickly from the alleyway to which Severus had Apparated them, to the smallest street around the building. It was more open than Draco would have preferred, but saw less traffic than the other streets around it. Not that was anyone much around 4am on a Tuesday. It was much cooler than it had been during the day, but the air was still warm around them.

Draco unShrunk the Spider Gloves and put them on his hands and feet, making sure they were tightly secured. He taught Severus the incantations (which were mercifully brief), and looked over his route. The building was three floors high and painted a pale shade of peach, which was beginning to peel in scabrous looking patches.

“Go carefully over the bits that are peeling,” he warned. “If you end up with nothing under your Glove but a patch of loose paint, things could get a bit hairy.”

It wasn’t a long or especially difficult climb, thank Merlin. Even so, his arse and thighs strained with the additional activity. He climbed quickly, murmuring the short-release spells in an almost continuous cycle. He reached the top with no problems and dropped the gloves down to Severus. A moment later Severus began to climb.

It was agonising to watch. Every movement was slow and uncertain, every release spell was a trial. By the time Severus was climbing the third floor Draco’s heart was in his mouth. Dammit, they should have been practicing this at Severus’ flat, not fucking.

His heart lurched as something went wrong, and Severus fell forward into the wall, one foot flailing behind him. “Severus?” he murmured.

“I’m fine,” came back quietly as Severus began climbing again.

He reached for Severus as he came over the lip of the building to help him over. He tried not to think about the warmth of his lean body. “What happened?” he asked.

Severus looked embarrassed. “I used the wrong spell. I meant to release my hand, and instead released my foot. A foolish error.”

“But you’re all right?”

He waved his hand. “I have done nothing worse than bruise my dignity. I expect I shall survive.”

From the roof they could see that the block was in fact a group of buildings built against each other. The roof they were on was arched, but most of the ones beyond seemed to be flat.

They clambered gingerly over the arched vault of the roof, testing each tile as they went. They went more quickly once they reached the flat roofs clustered around the courtyard, but at the far end of the block someone had inconveniently put a fourth storey.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Draco muttered. He looked over the inside edge. They might be seen if someone looked up from a window overlooking the courtyard, but it was the quickest route. With the Spider Gloves for safety he slipped swiftly around the corner, sending them back to Severus on _Wingardium Leviosa_. Watching him pick his way carefully sideways over a three storey drop was even worse than watching him climb up. He tried to keep a watch for anyone who might see them, and not watch Severus’ painstaking progress.

Once Severus was safely around, they ran lightly to the building their targets were in.

A few Cutting Hexes created a hole in the roof; a few more did the same to the ceiling below. They Levitated the cut pieces out to prevent them falling to floor below. It was so much easier with two of them.

When no one came to investigate, Draco pulled a shrunken length of rope from his pocket and restored it. A firm Sticking Charm anchored one end to the lip of the roof.

“I must say,” Severus murmured, “That climbing ropes is not one of my dominant skills.”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Draco asked softly. He thought for a moment. They couldn’t fly; he could Petrify Severus and Levitate him down, but that would leave him far too vulnerable to attack if anyone came. “Put the Spider Gloves back on, and hold tight to the end. With your feet, too. I’ll lower the rope.”

Severus raised an eyebrow, clearly about to object. “Look, it’s that or you wait here. Personally, I’d prefer to have the backup, but we need to hurry up.”

In response, Severus put the gloves back on, and sat at the edge of the hole. With one hand free and holding his wand he swung wildly, but made it to the floor safely. Draco quickly enlarged and attached the devices he needed to abseil down and swiftly reached the floor. He tried not to smirk, knowing his descent had been infinitely more graceful.

The room they were in was dark. Severus’ _Lumos_ revealed shrouded furniture and tightly closed curtains. Probably someone’s home, shut up for the summer. Possibly longer, from the slightly musty smell of old dust pervading the room.

He released the rope with a spell and shrunk it back down to fit in his pocket.

They walked to the door, moving to stand either side of it without discussion. Severus checked it for spells then reached to open it. Draco stood ready to hex anyone who happened to be on the other side of the door when it opened. The hall was as dark and deserted as the room they’d entered. A quick sweep showed the entire floor was clear.

He couldn’t decide whether it was surprising or not that they fell into this so easily. That even though they’d never prowled halls together, even though they’d been apart for so long, they still moved smoothly together with little more communication than a nod of a head or a gesture with a hand.

They crept slowly down the grand marble staircase from which the runner had been lifted. The hallway below glowed gently from a light on somewhere. This was where they had seen the watcher in the window earlier in the evening.

Below them, a door closed quietly. A man’s voice murmured, “Señora. Are you well?”

“Jorge,” a woman replied, her voice low and throaty. There was silence for a moment. “I am grieved for Paco.”

“I still say we should kill the little cabrón,” the man growled.

“No, Jorge, we need him.”

The man must have made some gesture because the woman spoke again, this time with a warning in her voice. “Jorge. He has done what we asked of him. We should have been more careful with the potion, we knew it was dangerous.

Jorge sighed. “Si, Señora.”

“We _must_ succeed, Jorge. We cannot free ourselves from the oppressors while they take the wealth that is ours for themselves. England is rich and weak, with this potion their Ministry will fall to us easily. Then we shall honour Paco by taking back Catalunya, by taking back our freedom.”

On the stairs, Draco cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, crouched, and crept carefully down a few steps. As long as neither of them were looking at him when he moved, they wouldn’t see him, and it would be useful to know where the Señora went after speaking to Jorge.

Jorge was sitting in a chair at a window. There was a closed door behind him. Draco was fairly sure it hadn’t been Jorge at the window when they went past earlier, so there was at least one other person here.

The woman was patting Jorge on the shoulder. She was of average height, long dark hair pulled back in a no-nonsense braid. She moved like a soldier as she turned and strode to a room across the hall, leaving Jorge alone.

Severus tapped him on the shoulder. He had the little dragon in his hand and was pointing toward the room behind Jorge. That figured.

It was probably best to move quickly. A swift _Petrificus Totalis_ froze the man in his chair so he wouldn’t fall and make a noise when Draco’s Stunner knocked him out. They ran quietly down the hall where Severus stood guard while Draco began trying to open the door. He wasn’t surprised when it didn’t give to a simple _Alohomora_ , but it was always worth trying the basics. None of the usual spells worked either, so he cast the Spell Identification Charm at the door.

Most of the spells were recognisable from Eduardo’s lab, and he disabled them quickly. After a few tense minutes the door clicked open. Stale cigarette smoke billowed out and dissipated in the fresher air of the hall. He stood and gestured for Severus to go in while Draco stood guard. Eduardo would be quicker to trust Severus than he would Draco. He heard Severus whisper, “ _Silencio_ ,” before crossing the room to wake Eduardo. After some rustling and a whispered conversation Severus returned to the doorway.

“We should bring our friend Jorge in before he upsets someone,” he whispered in Draco’s ear.

Together they Levitated the unconscious man into the room and put him down on the truckle bed Eduardo had been occupying. The air was acrid, the smell of too many cigarettes and fears almost overwhelming. Eduardo himself paced in the far corner. He was wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing in Severus’ shop that afternoon, though they were badly crumpled now. His red-rimmed eyes and nervously twitching hands showed his stress and probably his need for another cigarette.

Severus pulled a small glass vial from his pocket, thumbing the cap off as he strode over to the bed.

“Severus?” Draco asked. What was the damned man up to?

He plucked a hair from Jorge and dropped it into the vial. “One never knows when a drop of Polyjuice will come in useful. I will replace Jorge outside the door. It should buy us some time if anyone comes back out.” He stripped out of his trousers and shirt. There had been no time to really _look_ at Severus earlier. This wasn’t really the time either, but Draco couldn’t help taking a moment to appreciate the lovely, long, lean lines of his body. Then, of course, there was the vicious scarring on his throat that was highlighted as he tipped his head back to drink the vile-tasting potion. Draco removed the _Petrificus_ from Jorge and started pulling the man’s clothes off so Severus could wear them.

Severus-as-Jorge dressed quickly. “Eduardo, you need to tell Draco everything, and quickly. We need to get out of here.” He slipped out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him and leaving Draco alone with Eduardo.

Draco pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket and offered one to Eduardo, who looked at it like it was salvation. He lit Eduardo’s cigarette and then his own, and waited till the man had had a couple of drags and was looking a little calmer.

“So, what’s your role in all this?” Draco asked.

The little man twitched as though he were a giant raw nerve, and Draco had just poked him. “They wanted… they wanted a potion-“

“Yes, we saw.” The other man stared very hard at the glowing tip of his cigarette. “What I want to know is why you’ve made it for them. Do you whole-heartedly support their goals? Did you think it was a good idea at the time, but you’ve changed your mind? What?” He drew a puff from his cigarette, adding his own smoke to the tarry miasma in the air, punctuating his questions.

“I- Bianca- my sister. They said- she has children.”

Fuck’s _sake_. He wanted to say, ‘I was sixteen, what’s your excuse?’ But he took a drag of his cigarette instead, trying for patience. “They threatened your sister and her family?”

“Si. If I do not do what they say, if I tell anyone about the potion, they will take my family. They will hurt the little ones.”

“Can we, if we collect your family and move them, can we take them to the authorities? They should be able to protect you and your family if you’re right there.”

“I don’t want them involved in this madness!” He was rapidly burning through his cigarette with quick little puffs.

Deep breaths, he told himself. Just keep taking deep breaths. “They’re already involved, Eduardo. They were involved the moment these people threatened them, they just didn’t know it. Is it fair that they don’t even know they’re in danger? If we can get them somewhere they’ll be safe, then these people will have no hold over you.”

“But I know, now. I know the potion. They will not just let me go.”

“No. Which is why we have to _make_ them let you go. Septimus can always Obliviate you.”

Eduardo nodded slowly, obviously at least considering it. There’d be nothing to stop someone else developing the potion again, but he’d prefer to lower the likelihood of its being brought into use by anyone. “I don’t know where your wand is, so you’re going to have to tell me where your sister lives. Do I have your permission for _Legilimens_?”

Eduardo bridled, and focussed intently on Draco’s chin. “You know Septimus well?”

He took a sharp puff of the cigarette to prevent himself snapping. Now was hardly the best time for discussing credentials. Merlin, he hated working with civilians. “I used to. I haven’t seen him in a long time, but he’s left us here to sort out the details, and I would prefer for him not to get caught because we delayed overlong.”

Eduardo laughed, strained but genuine. “You do know him well. Muy bien.” And with that he met Draco’s eyes.

He projected strongly, and it took only seconds for Draco to get a clear image of a rooftop terrace with potted plants lending a sense of calm elegance to the roofscape.

Outside the door someone spoke to Severus, who replied calmly. As long as they didn’t check the door it would be fine. Just in case, Draco Disillusioned the still form of Jorge on the bed, and moved to stand behind the door. He waited tensely, but the man went away again.

Moments later Severus-as-Jorge came in. “He’s suspicious. We need to go.”

“We need somewhere safe to take Eduardo’s family,” Draco said, coming forward from behind the door.

“Eduardo? El Santuario? It would be the safest.”

Eduardo looked resigned. “Si. Si, we will be safe. And you will look after my lab? Some of the potions are very delicate. You must be very careful. And just make sure they are in stasis, you understand.”

Draco paused in the process of shrinking Severus’ clothes and putting them in his pocket for when the Polyjuice wore off. “Is he- Is he telling you to be careful with his potions?” he asked, incredulous.

Severus’ mouth twitched in amusement. “I may have downplayed my skill somewhat over the years.”

“Septimus? I don’t understand,” Eduardo said.

“It’s nothing.” Severus waved his hand dismissively. “Your potions will be fine. Where do we need to go?”

Draco dropped the Occlumency shields he habitually maintained and pictured the terrace Eduardo had shown him as clearly as he could, for Severus to pick from his mind. “As soon as we get clear of the anti-Apparation wards, we need to go here and collect the family. Where is this… Sanctuary?”

“It’s beneath the Mezquita,” Severus explained as Eduardo grabbed the bag of things that had been taken from his flat. “It was established when the Christians took this part of Spain from the Moors. They began the Inquisition to consolidate their hold. A group of Wizards created a sanctuary beneath the great mosque for those who feared for their lives.”

“Jorge?” A man’s voice came from outside. The three of them froze. Time was up.

Draco grabbed Eduardo and moved him to stand between himself and Severus. “Get ready to run,” he whispered.

The man opened the door and was immediately sent hurtling backwards by Severus’ Stunner. He hit the wall with a mighty thump that was bound to bring people running. “Go!”

They raced down the hall and made it to the large marble staircase before the shouting began. Severus took the stairs two or three at a time, but Eduardo took them at a snail’s pace, afraid of falling. As a potion-maker without a side role in espionage, he likely wasn’t used to running for his life – a failing which was probably about to get Draco hexed to hell and back.

Severus reached the bottom of the stairs and ducked behind the marble plinth at the end to cover them. Draco could hear at least two men and a woman shouting, and the sound of running. He glanced over his shoulder, trying to see when they rounded the top of the staircase without tripping down them. The flash of a hex narrowly missing his arm told him he was already too late. Severus cast something back at the woman, who was the first to catch up, distracting her while Draco cast a Shielding Charm. In front of him Eduardo stumbled, nearly sending both of them crashing down the stairs.

Draco pushed himself forward to keep his feet underneath him, dancing ahead of Eduardo. He turned to catch the other man’s fall, grateful for Severus, who was doing his best to draw fire. Over Eduardo’s shoulder Draco counted four people chasing them. Not ideal odds, given that Eduardo was without his wand, but not insurmountable if they were quick. He paused to let Eduardo get ahead of him and threw an _Impedimenta_ jinx at the man closest to the top of the stairs, hoping to trip him and send him crashing into the man in front of him. The man stumbled but recovered his footing, while his comrades kept up their assault. Behind him a step shattered, sending tiny chips flying into the back of his legs.

“Draco,” Severus shouted between curses and shields. “The doors.”

There was no time to dismantle any wards their adversaries had raised around the doors, but they couldn’t risk running afoul of them either. Hoping that Severus could cover him sufficiently, and that it was still too early for Spanish Muggles to be about, he pointed his wand at the grand and probably very old wooden doors on the far side of the foyer.

“ _Reducto._

The doors erupted in a savage spray of splinters at the same time as a Cutting Hex hit Severus in the thigh.

Finally Eduardo reached the ground floor.

“Keep going!” Draco shouted at him. “Severus?”

“Cover me,” Severus snapped, still cursing their pursuers, but looking pale now from the wound.

Draco ducked behind the arch of the now wide open doorway and took up the assault as Severus sprinted across the foyer.

One of them, a lumbering ox of a man, tumbled down the last few stairs. A curse got past his shields and stone chips burst from the doorway above Draco’s head. He turned and raced through the shattered remains of the wooden doors that littered the street to catch up with Eduardo and Severus, trying desperately to remember the peacefully rotating image of the building from the iScry, and where the anti-Apparation wards ended.

The hail of hexes and curses resumed as their pursuers emerged from the building. One of them bellowed in pain. Ahead of him, Severus grabbed Eduardo by the arm and they disappeared with the faint crack of Apparation. Behind him, something hit his Shield Charm with a mighty impact, throwing him forward to the ground. He rolled to his feet and sent a Blasting Hex at the ground just in front of the Señora, who was closest to him.

He heard her shriek as he envisioned the quiet rooftop patio Eduardo had shown him and Apparated, hoping he was clear of the anti-Apparation wards.

~O~

The terrace was much as Eduardo had envisioned it, but the wooden door with its glass surround now stood open, and he could hear shouting and a child crying from inside. Severus, looking like himself again, sat at a patio table with his wand pointing at Draco. Once he realised who it was, he returned his attention to the wound in his leg.

“Let me look at that,” Draco said. Severus sat back without a word. It was a nasty cut, long and fairly deep. The trouser leg was soaked with blood, and the thin dark hairs on his leg were clotted with it. He frowned. The gash appeared to be pulling further open. “Is this getting worse?”

“I believe so,” Severus replied, voice strained, even over the rasp of his ruined throat.

They probably had a few moments before the Señora and her crew worked out where they’d gone. “Here,” he said, pulling Severus’ shrunken clothes from his pocket. “Change your shirt while I fix this.” It might help to distract him while Draco removed the curse from his leg.

He cast the medical diagnostic charm that the department used for First Aid in the field to work out what the curse was. The wrong counter-curse could end up taking Severus’ leg off, and they didn’t have the time for that. Fortunately it was a curse he was reasonably familiar with, and he began to chant the counter-curse.

He felt it the moment the curse lifted, and also heard Severus’ sigh of relief. He quickly healed the cut and cast the gentlest cleaning charm he knew. “I don’t suppose you’ve a Blood Replenishing potion handy, too?”

Severus pulled a thin flat case from the breast pocket of Jorge’s discarded shirt. From it he took a small vial and drank the contents. “Cast some wards, while I change my trousers. We’ll need to slow them down. It doesn’t sound as though Eduardo is having much success in persuading his family to claim sanctuary.”

The woman and the child were quieter than they had been but Eduardo and the other man, presumably his brother-in-law, were still yelling furiously.

He lit a cigarette while he examined the existing wards, the slow deep inhalations quieting the nerves that were jangling with adrenaline. The wards were keyed to the family so he couldn’t build on them, which was expected, but a nuisance. He would have to cast his own outside the barrier of the existing ones. He plucked a leaf from one of the potted plants and transfigured it into chalk without bothering to change the colour. He quickly sketched some runes around the outside of the wall to serve as a base for the wards. They needed to slow the Señora down without hindering their own escape, so something exclusionary based on intent would be the best place to start.

“I am going to speak to Eduardo’s family,” Severus said. “We’ll see if I can’t impress upon them the urgency of their situation.”

“We should have left you bleeding,” Draco replied absently, his mind mostly on the wards. “That would have impressed them, I’m sure.”

Severus snorted and headed for the door.

“Oh!” Draco said, reaching for the now-battered packet of cigarettes and taking out one of the last few. Nearly a whole pack in one day – Merlin, he’d be hoarse tomorrow. “You’d better take one of these to Eduardo. He’ll be gagging by now, I expect.”

“Indeed,” Severus replied with a sniff. He took the cigarette nonetheless and went inside to drum some sense into the blowhard brother-in-law.

Draco warded the place as best he could, being more considerate than the Señora in avoiding inconveniencing the other inhabitants. When the outside was as secure as he could make it, he checked quickly for anything they’d left outside. Jorge’s clothes were a charred pile of ash by the table. Good. The last thing they needed was people this unscrupulous having a hold of Severus’ blood. The terrace was clear so he went inside to get the front warded.

Inside, Severus stood in a living area scattered with children’s toys and a well-worn rug looming threateningly over a man who was presumably the brother-in-law. There was no sign of Eduardo or the sister, Bianca. Hopefully they were packing.

He ran lightly down the stairs and opened the front door, a curse ready at his lips in case they’d already been followed. There was no one on the cobbled street at all. He sketched more runes with his transfigured chalk, trying to hide or disguise them as much as he could. One went beneath a plant pot filled with geraniums, another under the doormat.

When the wards were as solid as he could make them, he cast one last suspicious glance out into the street, but still no one stirred.

When he went back upstairs, one of the children was throwing a tantrum, complete with crying, screaming and, unless his ears deceived him, foot stomping. He cringed. Thank Merlin Scorpius had been a quiet child.

He followed the noise to the kitchen, where Severus stood with Eduardo and his family surrounded by hastily packed bags. The woman, Bianca, was trying to calm the child who was clinging desperately to a wire carrier. Of course there’d be a bloody pet.

Draco dropped to his knees beside the child, a little boy of about five, and touched the lad’s arm. “What’s the matter?” he asked in his best ‘Father will fix it’ voice.

The boy stopped wailing, thank Merlin, and looked at him doubtfully.

“We don’t have time for this, Draco,” Severus snapped. Draco just waved a hand at him without looking away from the boy, who was staring fearfully at Severus. They were going to lose time over the pet, but it would be easier to find the bloody thing and take it with them than to dodge curses with a screaming, thrashing child in tow.

“Is your pet lost?” he asked.

“We can’t leave without Rico!” the boy shouted, mostly defiant but with a wobble of imminent tears.

“Of course not,” Draco soothed. “My son would be very upset if something happened to his kneazle. What sort of pet is Rico?”

The boy sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“Rico is a crup,” Bianca said anxiously.

It looked like Draco’s scut work for Magical Accidents and Catastrophes at the beginning of his career was about to pay off. The ability to _Accio_ small live creatures, _if_ one knew precisely what one was summoning and _if_ one knew the additional flourish of the wand, was a secret jealously guarded by the Department.

“ _Accio_ Rico,” he called, envisioning a crup as clearly as he could. From downstairs an animal howled, then begin barking furiously. As the two-tailed beast sailed up the stairs, the building shook and a bell clanged. The husband let out a startled yell, and the little girl on Bianca’s hip whimpered.

He caught the animal as it came to his chest, and Petrified it. “They’re here,” he said, shoving the frozen animal into the cage and closing the lid. He ended the Petrifaction then Silenced the thoroughly outraged beast.

“The terrace should be safe to Disapparate from. How do we get into the Sanctuary?” He picked up Rico’s cage and put a guiding hand to the boy’s back, pushing him gently towards the stairs.

Severus led the way up the stairs with his wand out just in case the Señora had managed to circumvent Draco’s wards and get someone on the terrace. “We have to Apparate to a spot near the Mezquita, then get into the courtyard. There is a door on the west face that opens into the courtyard. We need to go in the door immediately to the right, then turn left. There’s a column surrounded by what looks like Muggle plastic, but it’s a magical field. The others will be able to find it. Do _not_ touch it. If you do, you are claiming Sanctuary and you may find yourself unable to return home for some time.”

Draco did his best to focus on Severus’ instructions against the jangling in his head of the assault on his wards at the front of the house. The terrace was clear, so they assembled there. Draco closed the door and locked it behind him before casting some nasty booby trap spells on the door itself. He smirked to himself. They weren’t the only ones who could play at that game.

“Eduardo,” he said, and the little man jumped to attention. “As soon as we get there, take Rico and the children and get inside.” He turned to Bianca and the husband. “Can either of you fight?”

“Si,” Bianca said, with a proud toss of her head that seemed at odds with the bed-messy hair in a sloppy ponytail and the baggy tracksuit bottoms she was wearing.

“Bianca-“ the husband objected.

“No, Mateo,” she interrupted. “You will guard Eduardo and los niños.”

Draco felt the wards at the front door give way. “We need to go, they’re in. Severus, where are we Apparating to?”

He dropped his mental defences to let Severus give him the image of their destination – another side-street, this one with a bike stand, and tried to ignore Bianca kissing her husband and children, and the yells and curses from the intruders inside.

Someone inside screamed as they discovered Draco’s spells on the door. He turned to look as the others began to Disapparate away around him and looked straight into the furious eyes of the Señora through the glass surround of the door. He tried to Occlude but he knew it was too late. He could _feel_ her pluck the image of their destination straight out of his head.

Hoping to slow them down, he cast _Reducto_ at the door and Disapparated.

~O~

Severus and Bianca stood guard at the end of the little street. Eduardo and Mateo had already gone on with the children.

“We have to hurry, they know where we’ve come,” he shouted, racing towards them as best he could with the damn pet cage smacking into his thigh with every other step.

“How do they know?” Severus demanded as Draco got near the corner.

Bianca turned left down the larger street and started running. “Because I’m an idiot!” he replied, following her. “Hurry!”

They sprinted after Bianca. If they could get off this street before the Señora arrived they might just gain enough time to get to the Sanctuary safely. He hoped the cracking sounds of Apparation he thought he heard were just his imagination.

Ahead, Bianca ducked down a side street to the right. Unfortunately there was no way the shouting he could hear was his imagination. He moved the pet cage so he was holding it to his chest and cast a Shielding Charm behind him just in time, as he felt a curse crash into it.

From the cover of the corner of the building, Bianca rapidly fired hexes at their pursuers. He heard someone swear as he turned into the side street. Severus had already reached an alley turning off the street they were on.

“Come on!” he yelled to Bianca and they both ran down the street while Severus covered them.

At the end of the street he could see the great stone wall of the Mezquita looming in the streetlight and the lightening of the coming dawn.

He followed Bianca as she turned to the right and saw Mateo waiting at the open door. He shoved Rico’s cage at her. “Get inside and hold the door. I have to cover Severus.”

He didn’t wait to see if she’d do as he said, just turned back to the side street. There were five of them, two of whom had cornered Severus in the alleyway. The Señora and two others were bearing down on him. Focussing beyond them, he Stupefied one of Severus’ attackers, who went down like a ton of bricks. Hopefully Severus could deal with his remaining opponent swiftly. With two of them flanking three opponents, they should be able to win. One against three was not good odds.

He Shielded fiercely while looking around for cover, but they were in a major road in the Muggle part of the city. He dived behind a parked automobile. The windscreen promptly shattered under the impact of a hex. He shot a Stunner back. Another hex came hurtling from behind him. Ducking down behind the bumper of the vehicle, he looked back – Bianca and Mateo stood in the wooden doorway of the Mezquita. He tried to decide whether to be grateful for the extra firepower, or furious over them putting themselves in danger.

“Deal with him,” the Señora snarled at her henchmen. The auto was immediately blasted away over his head, flipping over to land on top of another. He rolled away into the middle of the road, kicking the Señora in the back of the knee as she passed. She stumbled then turned to hex him. Jorge and another man, both with vicious cuts and splinters in their faces and arms, joined her, ranging against him; corralling him against the wall of the Mezquita. Jorge, at least, was distracted with Shielding the Señora from Bianca and Mateo’s assault. That left him facing two at close quarters. He could feel the weight of the last day bearing down on him. He was down to his last reserves of energy.

He put on his best smirk and threw a Blasting Hex right into the Señora’s face. She countered it, and the man to Draco’s right Cursed him right back. Draco dodged to the side, leaning flat and kicking the man in the stomach. He turned as he landed, dodging a Hex from the Señora and shoulder-barging into Jorge.

The Señora cried out as, with Jorge distracted, a hex hit her from behind. Suddenly Jorge screamed, blood pouring from wounds on his arm and chest. Draco looked up to see Severus striding out from the side street. In that moment the man he’d kicked in the stomach cast a Blasting Hex at the ground at Draco’s feet, and he was slammed back against the Mezquita wall. Pain exploded across the back of Draco's head as he blacked out.

~O~

The Carrows must have been _Crucio_ -ing him again. He hurt all over and he couldn’t remember a thing, but Severus was holding his wrist in that way that he did when Draco had been hurt, so he was safe now.

Except that Severus’ voice was strange and croaky, and he seemed to be talking complete gibberish. And anyway, wasn’t Severus dead? He contemplated going back to sleep until it all made sense, but he thought there might have been something urgent. Something he was supposed to do.

“Se’r’s?” he slurred. The hand on his wrist tightened. The other stroked his hair gently. “Wha’ ‘appened?”

“You came over all Gryffindor, and tried to take on three opponents at once,” came the quiet but ragged-voiced reply. “It worked out about as well as one might expect.”

“Oh,” he said, and tried to fit that in with what he knew. The case that was a wild goose chase, except that he’d caught a fwooper about to cry; his dead lover who wasn’t; a man trapped in amber. “Oh. Bianca? Eduardo?”

“They have all safely claimed sanctuary and been accepted. Even that bloody crup.”

Severus had stopped stroking his hair, but was still holding his wrist. He felt a little silly for how reassuring it felt.

“Where are we now?”

“This is the vestibule of the Santuario.”

Draco jerked then had to restrain a groan as his head thumped. “But you said we couldn’t go in. I need to go back!”

“It is permitted for Protectors to enter the Vestibule of El Santuario to seek healing for their hurts,” a dry voice spoke from his other side. He hadn’t even noticed the ancient man wearing what looked like a doublet and hose.

“And we’re Protectors, are we?” he asked nervously. He couldn’t be stuck here. He needed to be able to see Scorpius.

The old man smiled a little. It looked like it wasn’t an expression he was used to performing. “You have protected fugitives seeking sanctuary. That makes you a Protector, no?”

“I have potions at home which will help ease the ache, Draco.” Severus turned and bowed to the man. “Your Excellency has been most gracious in your assistance to us. We will leave so that you may return to your duties.”

“May your wands cast strongly,” the man said. He bowed and stepped back to stand next to an elaborately decorated door.

Severus helped Draco to sit up, holding him upright as his head swam. When the vertigo had passed he pushed himself to his feet and leaned against Severus.

Standing, he could take in the wealth of the gorgeous bright tapestries on the walls, the colours glowing warmly in the candlelight. At one end stood a staircase of rich, dark wood, leading up towards the much dimmer light of the public Mezquita.

“We will need to leave by the door on the far side of the courtyard,” Severus murmured as they slowly climbed the stairs. “The authorities, both Wizarding and Muggle, are none too pleased with the mess left by our would-be terrorists. It would be best to avoid being associated with it.”

They reached the top of the stairs and paused for a moment in the hall of the Mezquita. Hundreds of columns stretched out in a vast space, topped with elegant arches striped red and white. Behind them, the stairwell of El Santuario faded from sight.

They walked slowly to the exit and across a courtyard filled with orange trees. The sun was well up, and the air was stiflingly hot again. The heat and light made his head throb.

It was even worse when they stepped out of the courtyard and onto the street. Muggle autos kicked up dust, their horns blaring and drivers yelling. Tourists thronged along the street, oblivious to anyone else.

“Not far now,” Severus said. He guided Draco across the street and turned down another, then another, the noise lessening a little with each turn they took. In a quiet corner with no one around, Severus took his arm and Disapparated them.

~O~

Severus’ flat was soothingly cool and dim, if still redolent of sex. He was guided to the sofa and sat down obediently. It was strange to simply let someone look after him. He had never gone to Asteria for care or comfort. Their relationship had been fairly business-like and neither of them had ever really let themselves be _vulnerable_ to the other like this. He leaned his head back against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes.

He could hear Severus moving around somewhere in the flat, and the clink of potion vials. Ridiculous to feel so safe but it was so familiar, even if the specific setting wasn’t. Footsteps came back into the room towards him.

“These should help,” Severus said. “The gentleman at the Santuario healed the concussion and fractures, but obviously not the wider effects.”

Draco opened his eyes and Severus handed him the first potion. He took it, but waited for Severus to tell him what it was. Severus had rather beaten it into his head years ago not to take potions without knowing what they were.

Severus raised an eyebrow, then caught on. “That one is for the sensitivity. It should also calm any nausea you might experience. This one,” he raised a small vial containing a dark creamy green potion, “will help the bones mend, and you should recognise this pain potion,” a pale clear blue that was, indeed, all too familiar from that awful year at Hogwarts.

He took them one by one and sighed in relief as his feeling of fragility faded.

Severus was kneeling on the floor beside him, watching him with intent concern. Caught up in the sense of familiarity, Draco reached out and touched his face, the sharp jaw rough with stubble. Severus’ eyes widened, startled, bringing Draco back to the present, where the familiarity was a relic of the past separated from them by two decades. He pulled his hand back, feeling a flush rise up his face.

Severus cleared his throat. “You have a son.”

“Scorpius, yes. I did mention him earlier. Before we-”

“Yes.” Severus shuffled a little, the clearest indication of discomfort Draco had ever seen from him. “I suppose I just didn’t really take it in. It seems so strange.”

He sighed. “Severus, I’m _forty_. I wish you wouldn’t keep making me say it.”

Severus stood abruptly. “Forty is hardly ancient.”

Draco snorted and watched him retreat to the dining table. He felt as though he were poised on the edge of something. “That’s not the tune you were singing twenty three years ago.”

“I mean in the scheme of things.” Severus waved a dismissive hand, but his eyes were tense. “It’s a touch different when the forty year old in question is seducing a teenager.”

Suddenly it clicked. This was it. He had a chance. If he could just say the right thing, do the right thing, he could _have_ this. Not just an angry nostalgic fuck on the sofa, but _everything_. Thirty years of history with a man he had loved. With a man he probably still did love, if he were to be entirely honest with himself. He just had to convince Severus that they could have this. That they deserved it. That Severus deserved it.

He took a deep slow breath. The right thing could get him everything. The wrong thing could drive Severus so far away he’d never find him again.

“I wish you’d stop flagellating yourself for that,” he said softly, standing up and walking slowly to where Severus stood leaning one hip against the table. “You didn’t wreck me. You didn’t ruin my life.” Severus opened his mouth to protest, but Draco kept talking over his objection. “You protected me when I needed to be protected, when no one else could. You gave me comfort, and warmth, and safety in a cold, dangerous time.” He met Severus’ eyes and smiled a little. “I’d like to think I did something of the same for you.”

He waited, but Severus just nodded, staring, almost hypnotised. “I am the man I am today because of you. It wasn’t shameful, Severus. There was nothing sordid about it, it was just us. I wish you wouldn’t belittle it so much. It was one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

He stepped forward, right into Severus’ space. Severus was still an inch or so taller than Draco, but their eyes were nearly level now. Draco wasn’t a youth anymore. He thought that might actually make this better than it had been all those years ago. He reached up and stroked Severus’s jaw. His fingers trailed over the rough stubble, down his throat, over the misshapen scar tissue.

Severus looked defiant and maybe just a little afraid. “Your wife…” he rasped.

Draco felt a thrill of triumph. If that was Severus’ biggest objection, he could really do this.

“Asteria lives in a very nice townhouse in Bath. We’ve been separated for two years. Since Scorpius was old enough to understand that we both loved him very much, but didn’t love each other. I missed you, Severus. Don’t make me give you up again.” He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Severus’ lips. He couldn’t force this. Severus had to want it as much as he did or it was nothing but a house of cards.

Severus hand raised and threaded through his hair, pulling him forward into the kiss. Relief and triumph bubbled in his veins like champagne. He laughed into Severus’ mouth and Severus wrapped his free arm around Draco’s waist, pulling him close against his body. Draco snaked his arms around Severus, slipping his hands up under his shirt to stroke over the warm smooth skin of his back.

He ran his lips across Severus’ jaw towards his ear, savouring the slight burn of stubble against his lips and the catch against his own.

“Take me to bed,” he whispered.

~O~

The blazing sunlight outside filtered through the shutters suffusing Severus’ bedroom with a warm golden light, making Severus’ lightly tanned skin glow. Draco leaned over to kiss the soft skin of his shoulder.

When he raised his head Severus met his eyes, looking grave. “I can’t return to England,” he said.

Draco raised an eyebrow and stroked the length of Severus’ spine.

“I’ve no mind to stand trial for Albus’ murder. They had sixteen years imprisoned at Hogwarts from me, they can’t have the rest of my life for Azkaban. Not even for you, Draco.”

Draco ran his hand up Severus’ back to thread his fingers through the short hair, still trying to get used to the unfamiliar sensation. “Dear me,” he replied, “You _are_ out of touch, aren’t you?”

He couldn’t prevent his lips from twitching as Severus attempted to scowl ferociously through the lassitude of afterglow. “Leaving aside the fact that you being in Azkaban would be dreadfully inconvenient, it’s unlikely to be an issue. I don’t know what you said to Potter before the battle, but he suddenly became your biggest fan. Never mind standing trial, you’re more likely to get a parade. He hasn’t quite managed to get you canonised yet, but I suspect the main hold up there is the absence of mortal remains for the production of the necessary miracles.”

Severus shifted to slip an arm over Draco’s hip and began stroking his stomach.

“I have this theory,” Draco continued, “That he’s been working on a way around that, though. Not one to let reality get in the way of what he wants, Potter.”

“I see,” Severus murmured, “And you’re great chums with Potter these days, are you?”

Draco shrugged and tugged on Severus’ shoulder, pulling him to lie over him and stroking his side. “His younger son is friends with Scorpius. We manage. Enough so that I could Floo him right now, should I so wish.”

“Hmmm,” Severus hummed, leaning forward to lick Draco’s nipple, already sensitised from earlier, making Draco gasp. “Well then, I think you should do that, don’t you?

Draco tried to cling to the thread of the conversation as Severus gently fondled his balls. “Yes. Yes, absolutely. I should do that.”

He threaded the fingers of both hands through Severus’ hair as Severus began kissing his way down Draco’s stomach, slowly but inexorably moving lower.

“But maybe a bit later,” he gasped.

~FIN~


End file.
